


Soldier on my Own

by Hephy



Series: To The End Of Days [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hephy/pseuds/Hephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam sends Tom on an errand. He just didn't expect it to end like this. Thankfully, Shay doesn't pussyfoot around and steps up to take care of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier on my Own

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I have a blatant disregard for timelines/order of events. This is one of those times, because technically Haytham shouldn’t show up yet. But he’s going to.
> 
> Also: Oh man, I won’t blame any of you if you skip this one. It’s very Tom-heavy at the beginning. But eventually Liam goes all rar-rar-I’m-big-and-scary (personally, my favorite part). Then Shay takes over.

He was a slave in this man’s eyes. Liam had told him the locals would treat him poorly and Tom was more than prepared. But he had a list, written and signed by Liam, and when he set it on the counter with a pouch of coin the color of his skin was dismissed.

“Wait over there.” The clerk waved him off and went to gather the supplies listed.

Tom turned and looked around the general store. It was dusty and smelled like aged wood that never dried. Musky.

He stood in a corner and watched several others come and go. They glanced at him and he saw the disapproval in their eyes. He was accustomed to being a passing thought, quickly deemed unworthy, but the new stares unsettled him.

“Where did you get those boots?” One of the customers asked while looming closer, “They look too nice for you. So does that coat.”

Tom looked down at the boots Shay and Liam had bought for him. They _were_ nice. Nicer than anything he’d ever been given. He looked up with fear straining at the edges of his mind.

“Did you steal them?” The man looked ready to gut him and Tom shrunk away shaking his head.

“Hey!” The store manager snapped, “Leave him be. He’s on errand for O’Brien and Captain Cormac.”

The man turned to the manager, “Those trouble makers?”

“Doesn’t matter if you like them or not. They give this piss pot of a port more coin with their business than most. So leave him.”

The customer turned to Tom again and looked him over critically before resigning to ignore him.

“Get over here, boy.” The manger waved for him and Tom stepped up to the counter. He was given change and a worn looking sack of items.

“Get going now, before you scare away business. And tell O’Brien not to send you alone anymore. I won’t be held responsible for payment if anything happens to you.”

Tom was happy to leave and attempted to blend in as he made his way toward the docks. He saw slaves working the fields as he passed and remembered that was once his life. Some of the workers stopped to stare at him and he refocused his attention on the dirt path, feeling guilty. He pulled up his hood and waited until he was beyond their sight to lower it and enjoy the breeze coming off the ocean.

Distracting himself with thoughts of the stories Liam had been reading to him every night calmed him. He rolled his mind over the letters and words he’d been taught so far. Writing out the words was awkward for his hand, which wasn’t accustomed to holding a quill, but he always put in his best effort.

Fingers closed around Tom’s arm and jerked him off balance. His breath hitched, a bolt of fear driving through him, and his eyes were frantic as he tried to make sense of why he was being grabbed.

He looked up at the pale man holding him, recognized his cruel face, and felt pain in his chest as his heart thundered.

“Where have you been? _Where_?”

Tom shook as every foul memory the man’s face roused washed to the front of his mind. He had no answer to the question; only wild eyes and a growing sense of self preservation. Words were coming out of the man’s mouth, questions and jabs boring into his skin, and Tom heard almost none of it until the last whispered promise.

“ _You won’t ever run again when I’m done with you_.”

Tom leaned back, pulling in a desperate attempt to yank free. He pried at the fingers around his upper arm but couldn’t budge them. He was slapped with such force he fell. The hand was on his wrist now, clamped like an immoveable iron shackle, and his attempts to crawl away were dashed. Again he was slapped and the crack of skin on skin echoed in his ears and a deep, intense burning rose across his cheek.

No one helped. Some continued walking. Some stopped to watch.

“I ought to beat you senseless right here. Get up, boy.” His arm was yanked, “ _Get up_!”

Tom felt tears descend his cheeks. He knew what awaited him if he surrendered. He’d be shipped back to work the fields, but not before he was whipped raw.

He reached up and again tried to pry at the fingers around his wrist, “Let me go.” His brown eyes looked at the angry blue pair, saw the moment of surprise before it overwrote with fury, and he steeled his expression into one of defiance.

Another slap. This time he yelped.

“You want the beating now? In front of everyone?”

His jaw was grabbed, fingers pressing into his skin so hard he heard the creak of bones in his skull. He pushed at the man’s chest, terrified at the proximity they now had, and made to pull away but was reeled in until face-to-face.

“You will stop this or you will be tied to the cart and dragged back to the field and beaten.”

“Hey! Hey!” A voice from behind granted Tom some space, “That one belongs to Captain Cormac! You leave him be!”

Tom saw the general store manager hurrying over. As much as he hadn’t liked the man’s disposition earlier, he was thankful for his presence now.

“He is not!” A verbal scuffle ensued but Tom wasn’t listening. He was mapping out an escape route and reaching into the sack of goods he’d picked up. He found the tightly bound salt and worked it open with his only free hand and grasped a handful.

When attention turned to him he threw the salt into those pale blue eyes and wrenched hard to one side as his captor recoiled against the granules. His wrist was sore and made more so by the motion, but the pain was easy to take when freedom was his reward. He dropped the bag of goods and bolted to the nearest building and began to climb the way Liam and Shay had showed him. He was halfway up before the angry shouts rose in a furious, berating tone. He hefted himself onto the roof and ran despite not knowing where he was headed.

He stumbled several times, the buildings slick from a recent rain, but continued to scramble to his feet. He saw fingers pointing at him, some arms waving, and realized the townspeople were giving him away. He looked over his shoulder and saw he was being chased from the street. He wanted to curl up and cry but knew he needed to press on. The next building over was farther away and he took a flying leap and hit the roof in a tumble but was up again and running in an instant.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Haytham hadn’t come to the dreary port for pleasantries. He was here on business. It was a simple matter of find man, kill man, take no prisoners, and call it a successful day.

The wind whipped up every now and again, making the boats at the docks sway and bump. He had found his target; a middle aged man in simple dress walking among the locals.

Haytham was in position, waiting for his target to drift closer, but his plans were delayed when the course changed and his target began walking toward pointing fingers and the lifting of voices. He looked across the street from his vantage point and saw the flutter of a long coat. A figure was cutting across the skyline.

“Why am I not surprised?” He heaved an irritated sigh and gave his target one last glance, vowing to return to finish the job, and headed across the rooftops in pursuit of the Assassin menace.

As he maneuvered in as straight a route as possible, he noticed the man’s clumsy footing and wondered if he were injured already. Or perhaps he was simply inexperienced. The closer he came the more convinced he was that the man was simply not accustomed to his environment above the crowds. He touched down on the same roof as the Assassin, hidden blade deploying, and reached for him.

He’d been seen at the last possible second, but even he knew it was too late for the – boy?

There was no hesitation in his movement, no mercy for a child Assassin, but his blade still missed.

The kid was sent sprawling on his back, having slipped, and was sliding across the roof. He recovered, scurrying to his feet and looking over his shoulder at Haytham with terror in his eyes.

Haytham was frozen, staring into the eyes of this oddity, and wondered if he were wrong in his deduction.

The boy turned his face away and ran, faster this time, and Haytham questioned his pursuit for three full seconds before he tightened the loosened bolts on his uncertainty and gave chase. The boy seemed more sure-footed now, as though fear hardened him, and it didn’t take long before Haytham was falling behind. The boy was fast, he’d give him that. His route, however, was erratic and unpredictable. The lack of pre planning was the only reason Haytham still had him in his sights. The knowledge bothered him.

Haytham chased the kid in a large, ridiculous arc around town before he realized they’d run in a circle. But now it looked like the kid was making for the docks, hopping from roof to roof, and exhibiting signs of oncoming fatigue.

It was a loose, wet shingle that was the kid’s undoing. His footing left him and he landed hard on his elbows and went skittering off the roof before he could catch himself. Haytham dropped to the ground one roof over and stopped as a panting man burst through a gathering of women and made straight for the young lad.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Tom had rolled off the roof and hit a wooden overhang above a shop before spiraling into the ground and landing flat on his back. He couldn’t breathe. The wind had left him. He rolled over, trying to gasp for air and get his feet under him, but his lungs were left to burn for an agonizing amount of time before relief was granted.

He sucked in a breath and was on his knees when a hand fisted in his hair and craned him back to make his throat vulnerable.

Filthy names bubbled from the man’s mouth, spoken with such venom his panting splattered Tom’s face with spit. Tom reached for the hand in his hair and held on to lessen the ripping and breaking of strands. He kicked but stopped when the hand became rougher and he was slapped until his mouth tasted of iron.

“Are you done?”

Tom’s nod was stiff and pained. He was panting with tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Stop resisting me – put your hands down!”

Tom didn’t want to let go of the hand in his hair. It hurt enough already and the prolonged abuse had made his scalp tender. When he made no motion to obey he was hit. Knuckles glanced across his cheek and a white, splitting pain blossomed in its wake. He collapsed against the building and covered his face with his arms, sinking in on himself, and felt the quiver of fear renew in his chest.

The hands grabbed him again, “Where did you get these clothes? Did you steal them? Have you been stealing?”

Tom shook his head again and again to deny any criminal activity.

He slapped Tom, “Don’t you lie to me!” More slapping followed, an ongoing rainfall of them until the man seemed to run out of energy.

“That’s quite enough.”

The voice was unfamiliar to Tom, and when he looked up through his bleary vision he saw the man that had been chasing him on the rooftops.

“I think the boy has learned his lesson, whatever it is you were attempting to beat into him. I believe it would be best if you ceased your public harassment and settled this in a more civilized manner.”

“This isn’t your business.”

“A valid point.” Haytham put his hands behind his back, “But I’m making it my business. What are his crimes?”

He turned back to Tom, “Get up. I said stand _up_.” He yanked on Tom until he stood, but kept a hand on the back of his neck to hold him in a hunched over position.

“Well?” Haytham pressed, his posture the image of authority.

“He’s a runaway. Escaped some months ago.”

“He must be spirited to give you such trouble.” Haytham looked at the blood dripping from Tom’s chin.

“His mother was no different at first. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm,” Haytham began approaching, “perhaps you should be more careful.”

The man went red in the face, “I’ve had just about enough of you.”

“Have you?” Haytham looked up suddenly and the man did likewise to see what was so distracting.

Tom rammed all his bodyweight into his abuser, knocking him onto a crate and breaking loose, and propelled himself forward in a powerful sprint. He launched by Haytham, generating a rush of air, and kicked up a trail of rocks and dirt as he bolted for the docks.

Swearing, the man got up and righted himself to fix Haytham with a blaming stare.

“As I was saying: careful.” Haytham smiled.

Tom saw the Morrigan front and center and felt the rising hope in his veins. He never faltered or checked his tail; only sought to find safety on the deck of his new home. When his feet hit the wooden planks of the dock he heard himself yelling.

“Liam! _Liam_!” He nearly sobbed, his relief to be so close to home mixing with his lingering fear. Heads of the crew looked his way and faces he recognized began exchanging shouts and waves.

Tom leapt onto the ship and slid to a stop just as the doors to the cabin swung open. Liam had seen him and was moving at a half run as he looked around for any sign of danger.

He sucked in a breath as he stumbled forward, crying Liam’s name as he crashed into his chest and buried his face. His arms locked around Liam’s back, fingernails clawing for purchase and the reassurance he’d always found before.

Words were being spoken to him but there was a deafening roaring in his ears. Then there was his sobbing that went uncontrolled for a time. He was scared and relieved and ashamed even as a hand cradled the back of his neck and another held him tight in an embrace that ensured him shelter from whatever storm life decided to cast.

As the roaring dissipated, Liam’s voice came into focus.

“-eeding, Tom. Why are you bleeding?”

He hiccupped and stammered his explanation, which barely made sense to him for as broken as it was so he knew it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.

“Who is _he_ , Tom? Tom?” Liam surrendered the fight for information, seeing it as a lost cause in the moment, and returned to comforting. He soothed him, closing his eyes as he blocked out the crowd forming around them. The crew was no doubt just as curious to know who was behind such upset, but they remained patient and silent.

When Tom’s crying subsided to little more than an occasional hiccup or sniffling, Liam tried again.

“Who did this to you?”

Tom drew an unstable breath and whispered, “The farmer.”

One of the crew spoke up, “O’Brien, sir.” He pointed to the dock and Liam followed his gesture to a man running towards the Morrigan at a crippled pace.

Tom shifted to Liam’s side furthest from the approaching man, huddling under the protective weight of his arm.

The man made it over the gap and onto the ship. He was not assisted despite nearly falling, and once balanced he headed toward Liam with his mouth flapping.

“That one is mine! So sorry if he’s inconvenienced you in any way. I’ll take him home if you’d kindly hand him-” He stopped halfway to them when Liam raised his hand palm out.

“You’ll stay where you are, stranger, and tell me what’s going on.”

He paused and sized Liam up, “Are you Captain Cormac?”

“Name’s Liam. Liam O’Brien. Acting Quartermaster.”

He seemed to grow irritated, “Is the captain of this vessel present in any manner?”

“Stepped out to perform a bit of business. Your dealings lie with me.”

He examined Liam again, his eyes scraping over his figure and wondering if the Captain was more or less reasonable. Tom’s arms tightened around Liam.

“Of course. As I was saying, that boy is my property and I’ve come to take him back with me.”

Liam shifted and took Tom gently by the arms to ease him away enough to look him over closer. He inspected Tom’s face and saw his split lip and darkening cheek. The blood was still slick on his chin and neck and the stains on his shirt would never come out.

Liam’s eyes turned on the man, “Was it you that hit him?”

“Yes. He tried to run but I dealt with it.”

Liam leaned over and spoke softly to Tom, “Go stand by Jack and Vinny.” He pressed Tom over, glad to see Jack extending a hand to draw him in where he would be flanked by a pair of men who looked like tireless guard dogs.

Liam exhaled through his nose, slow and silent, before his head turned and he looked at the intruder among them. His body turned to match direction with his focus and he stepped closer. The atmosphere shifted, his posture bound like a locked and coiled spring waiting to break free at the first sign of weakness, and he regarded the man before him as little more than an irritant to be scraped off the sole of his boot.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

The man, unlike the Morrigan’s crew, failed to see the danger as he yammered on. He spoke of Tom’s slavery, how he owned him, and Liam listened and listened to take it all in.

He interrupted, “I’m hearing precious little sense outta you.”

The man stopped, unsure how to respond, and hesitated twice before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry this isn’t making sense to you.”

Liam barked a laugh, “Oh it makes sense alright – it simply _isn’t_ sense. You think you own Tom.”

“I do own him. He’s one of my field hands.”

“Tom isn’t your slave. He’s a member of this crew and that isn’t up for debate.”

The reddening of his cheeks and puff of anger was wasted on Liam, “Under law I own him and if you refuse to return him then you at the very least must provide compensation for my loss.”

Liam’s demeanor snapped, “But he’s _not_ your _property_!”

Tom shrank between Jack and Vinny; Liam was terrifying when he yelled. The world seemed to fall a little quieter in the wake of his yelling; as though nature itself resigned to listen.

Liam’s temper subsided a moment later but there was still acid in his voice as he spoke, “He’s a human being, not a possession, and you’d do well to get that through your head.”

“I have the law on my side – you can’t bully me into-”

Liam advanced, his hand clamping around the man’s chin and jaw like a striking snake, and he walked him backwards until his spine connected with the mast.

He leaned close, lips pulled back bearing a canine tooth, and his voice a thousand promises of cruelty as he spoke, “Law doesn’t always equate to justice, mate. Nobody owes you anything; except a right swift kick in the arse. And worse. Get off this ship. Don’t come back.” He pushed him away.

But the man didn’t leave. He stared at Liam, incredulous and unsure how to proceed.

“You look like someone who has a lot left to say for a conversation that’s ended.” Liam’s eyes went to the dock, “Ah, Captain Cormac.”

Shay stepped onto the Morrigan, “Are you having a party without me?”

The man went right to Shay, “You’re Captain Cormac?”

“Depends on who’s doing the asking.”

“My name is Ennis. Ennis Buckley. I came for my field hand, Tom, but your man over there has been speaking nonsense.”

“Has he?” Shay overplayed his part, “What has he done?”

“He refused to return him to me, and has also refused me monetary compensation in exchange for my loss.”

“Those are some fancy words for a man like you.”

“I – excuse me? I’m not sure I understand.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. After all, you’re standing in a den of wolves and you can’t even see that.” Shay gestured to his men and Ennis looked around for the first time to discover he was surrounded by an entire crew of irate sailors.

“Tell me,” Shay started toward him, “do you feel wise where you stand?”

Ennis moved away as Shay approached.

“After all, Tom is part of this crew. That makes him family. You coming onto my ship, harassing my family and making demands doesn’t make me too happy. So if the nonsense Mr. O’Brien has been speaking bothers you, I’m afraid you’re only going to be more disappointed in your dealings with me.”

Ennis began turning in attempt to find his evacuation route. Shay clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him around to steer him toward the dock.

“You see, Mr. Buckle-”

“Buck _ly_!”

“Right. Mr. Buck Glee.” Shay ignored the glare, “I figure you must be the man who handles the whip.”

Ennis swallowed then, looking paler by the second.

Shay leaned close and spoke in a hushed voice, “Can’t say I care for the scars you’ve left. Have you counted them? I ask because I have yet to finish and it’s been weeks.”

“I have every right to-”

“Oh shut it.” Shay put a hand over his face and shoved him overboard. The crew roared in approval. Shay raised an arm and proceeded to perform a dramatic bow.

The splashing and flailing died away as Ennis managed a handhold on the dock. He remained there gasping.

Shay put a boot on the banister and set his forearm on his thigh as he leaned forward to look at the sopping wet mess of a man.

“Mr. Buck Feet,” Shay waved for his attention, “If I ever catch you coming ‘round Tom again… I’ll kill you myself.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Tom sat on the floor of the Captain’s cabin with a knife in his hand. The dark waves of his hair came away in tufts and clumps and littered the floorboards around him. His scalp ached from earlier abuse and the tugging of his own hands was almost unbearable on his sensitized skin. He continued until there wasn’t enough left to grab.

The knife clattered to the floor and he buried his face in his arms crossed over his legs and cried. His sobs were weak compared to earlier, but they held just as much pain. Never again, he decided. Never again would someone hold him by his hair and beat him bloody.

He looked up, startled, when the cabin door opened. His face was hot from the burn of tears and he blinked to clear his vision as Liam approached.

“Tom.” Liam knelt in front of him and placed a small wooden box beside them, “Come here.” He offered his arms.

Tom sniffled, shaking his head as his voice broke, “I’ll g-get blood on you again.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

He looked at Liam, feeling tears welling in his eyes, and bowed his head as he crawled the short distance forward. A hiccup and stutter escaped as Liam’s arms encircled him. The embrace was the perfect balance of warmth and firmness – something he had come to understand was uniquely Liam.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Tom nodded, cheek rubbing against Liam’s chest as he did so, and started by drawing a deep breath. He recounted his trip to the general store and the man who ran it. He mentioned the customer that harbored animosity toward him but also told of the store clerk’s actions in his defense.

He spoke of his first encounter with the farmer, then his escape thanks to the clerk’s interruption. He stopped there and grew as still as death.

“Tom?” Liam pushed him back to look at him.

Tom felt his eyes sting as guilt flooded him, “I-I dropped it.”

“Dropped what?”

“The supplies.” Tears ran down his cheeks and he felt foolish.

Liam held his face and pressed their foreheads together, “It’s alright. We can always get more. It’s not important.”

Tom found himself cuddled up to Liam’s chest again. Liam’s hand was cradling the back of his head in a manner so gentle it wasn’t even capable of causing his tender scalp discomfort.

“Is there more to tell?”

Tom nodded and continued where he’d left off. When he’d finished his story, Liam kissed his forehead.

“Thank you for telling me. I brought some things to get you cleaned up. If you’d like, I can cut your hair so it’s even.”

Tom smiled at that, “Does it look silly?”

“No, just precious.”

Tom breathed a laugh and wiped his eyes, “That means silly.”

Liam returned his smile, “In a good way.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

The breeze felt different with short hair. He liked it. Liam had cut it for him with a pair of scissors and then handed him a mirror so he could see himself. It was different, but Shay had approved with a whistle and Liam seemed to like the texture.

They had left the small port shortly after the incident involving the farmer. Ennis Buckly. Tom had never used his name. He had always simply been The Farmer. An overbearing, perfectionist of a man who jumped all over his workers at any opportunity.

Three days had passed since then. His lip was healing well despite how often he tended to nibble at it.

Shay and Liam found the man they sought and went off to take care of their Assassin business. When they returned, Shay was soaking wet and Liam was splattered all down his front with blood.

Tom was initially worried, but Liam took him by the arms and assured him none of the blood was his. They were in the middle of washing up in the cabin when Liam bent forward and kissed him on the side of his mouth. Shay was at his back in the next instant and he was wonderfully overwhelmed.

He was shared between the two of them and kissed all over until he was lightheaded and dazed. It was Shay who took him in hand and worked him firm and slow, but it was Liam who dropped to his knees and opened his mouth to take over.

Before long he was panting, his hips twitching toward Liam’s giving mouth and Shay’s fingers playing across his chest. His face was turned and Shay kissed him, careful of his lip, and whispered encouragements to him.

Warning Liam came in a stuttering cry of his name a moment before he felt his stamina fail him. Shay held him and kissed his neck as he trembled through his finish.

“You nearly had him.” Shay chuckled, “He’s a right proper mess now.”

Tom looked down to see Liam wiping the sticky remnants off his face, neck, and chest. He was a breath from apologizing, but stopped when he saw Liam smiling.

He was cleaned and wrapped in a thick blanket to warm. From his cozy place he watched Liam provide the same service to Shay but with the addition of fingers pressed into him. Shay lasted much longer but when he finished could barely stand. Liam stood and hefted him into his arms and pressed against the wall to hold him upright.

It was there Liam entered him and worked his hips until Shay was a panting mess once more, moaning obscenities into his mouth and begging. Tom watched Shay’s face tighten and his body convulse as he came again. Liam bit his neck, grinding up and in, until his own orgasm hit. When their pleasure began to ebb and the chill of the air was beginning to nip at their bare skin they parted.

Tom slept curled against Liam, as he often did, with Shay at his back tracing his scars. He drifted off to the quiet conversing between Shay and Liam and the knowledge he was as free as any man aboard the Morrigan.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Back on the homestead, Shay sighed as he curled up in bed, “So that’s it, then?”

“What?” Liam tipped his head to the side, somewhat annoyed but also patient and willing to listen.

“You’ve been working with him less than a month and you’re giving up?”

“I can’t train him like this.”

“You mean you don’t have the heart to train him in the way he needs to be trained.”

Liam sighed and sat at the table, “Training Tom is like trying to teach a dog that’s been abused all its life not to flinch at a raised hand.”

Shay snorted, “He does more than that, you know. Flinches at _everything_.”

Despite his frustration, Liam didn’t bother snapping at Shay. It was pointless. He knew better than anyone that Tom flinched at the first sign of aggression. Even aggression that wasn’t really there.

“He’s not going to get any better with you babying him.”

“That’s why Reina is necessary.”

Shay’s brow wrinkled, “I don’t know, Liam. It just seems something like that should be a last resort, not a first. From what you’ve told me Rei’s a tough woman, and tougher on her students.”

“You said it yourself. He isn’t going to get any better under my guidance. I can’t train Tom.” Liam stood and pushed the chair in, realizing he was in no mood to sit.

“Yeah.” Shay’s voice drooped, “Because you can’t stop babying him. I get it.”

Liam ignored him, tired of hearing about how he apparently ‘babied’ Tom, and went to the door, “She’s bringing us a novice in return. His name’s Kenji.”

“Sounds awful.”

Liam gave him a look.

Shay held up his hands in defense, “I’m kidding. How soon is she arriving?”

“Within the week. I’ll continue working with Tom until then.”

“How are you going to break it to him?”

Liam heaved a sigh, “As painlessly as possible. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“You too, big guy.” Shay mouthed a kiss from across the room and caught Liam’s fond smile before he closed the door.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Liam had told Tom the very next morning he would be going away for a while. Tom didn’t understand at first, and when he did he looked heartbroken.

“It’s alright, Tom. It’s temporary.”

Tom was crying. He didn’t want to be sent away, and Liam couldn’t blame him.

“Listen,” Liam knelt before him and held his arms, “listen, Tom, please. I’m doing this to protect you. You need someone who can train you without fear of hurting you. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m not sending you away because I don’t want you here. I do want you here, and that’s why you need this.”

Tom hiccupped, “H-How long?” He wiped his cheeks but only succeeded in smearing tears across his face.

“Reina has agreed to take you for a year.”

Tom’s tears regrouped and now he was sobbing into Liam’s chest.

Liam soothed him and held him close, “It’s alright. I know it seems like a long time, but it will go by fast. Trust me, under Reina’s guidance you’ll become very capable. She’s one of the best.”

Tom sniffled as his cries died down.

“I won’t lie to you; it’s not going to be easy. She’s a strict teacher, but in a year’s time you’ll look back and it will all be worth it. You’ll be able to defend yourself. You won’t have to live in fear. And when you return…” He kissed Tom’s forehead, “We’ll spend some time alone. Just you and me. That sound like a deal?”

Tom whispered, “I’m scared.”

“It’s alright to be scared. Just know I’ll be waiting for you at the end of that year.” He kissed his cheeks and wiped at the new droplets, “We all will, and we’ll all miss you.”

It was Tom’s quaky inhale and trembling lip that made Liam feel like an incarnation of evil. But Tom bit his lower lip to stop the motion and squeezed his eyes shut to steel himself. When he’d calmed enough to speak, he lifted his head to look at Liam.

“Will you write?”

“Of course. Every week if I can.”

Tom leaned in and their mouths met in a needy crash of lips and teeth until Liam had tamed the kiss. He led it in a gentler direction until the last of Tom’s shaking faded.

**Author's Note:**

> So Tom is going on vacation for a bit. That means it'll be just Shay and Liam again. What shenanigans will they get up to I wonder.


End file.
